Stake Your Claim
by SomeLikeItHot88
Summary: Why, oh why had she chosen, "Daughter"? Stupid, Stupid, Stupid. She mentally kicks herself for choosing that cover while watching a pair of fake tits and bleached blonde hair throwing herself at him.
1. Chapter 1

Lizzie can't help but sulk in her own misery. Her blood pressure skyrocketing through the roof and her nerves a jumbled mess. She sits in her seat constantly fidgeting and twitting her thumbs while she watches the stupid blonde bimbo run her hands up and down the length of his forearms and whispering what she can only assume as lewd and crude sweet nothings into Raymond Reddington's ears.

He was supposed to run to the bar of the restaurant and replenish their drinks since the waiter was taking his sweet ass time serving them. She watched him take a seat at one of the stools and her anxiety increased when she noticed a mane of blonde hair hot on his tail. She can't help the fact that her eyes follow him involuntarily and she has abandoned the need to consciously sensor herself in his presence. She has become more open and inviting, it's the least she could give him after all he had tried to give her- especially after the selfless noble acts she once thought of as manipulative diversions and ulterior motives.

They'd been on the run for months on end, different cities and countries with different aliases and covers. Each day they broke new ground and stumbled a little closer to exposing the cabal while evading capture but not without some close calls and of course, a little bloodshed. She has become stronger, wiser and a little more candid- more brazen then she ever was.

Not bold enough apparently because each time they change location, Red asks her what their covers should be. He goes down a list of them- from associates to assistants to daughter or lover- or as Red put it, "companion", he couldn't even muster the courage to say the actual word.

Did that mean the thought of it was ludicrous? Was it something so far-fetched and hard to believe? Something that he could never see her as? A role she could never play in real life and surely impossible to act out, even if in pretend? She doesn't know what his motives are because he doesn't give her indication in what lies beneath the façade he portrays except for petty little compliments or glances that don't say much since he could charm or flirt with a flowerpot if he so chose to.

Why oh why did she choose _daughter_? Why, oh why? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She mentally kicks herself for picking that as her relation to him. Its his fault really, the way he was looking at her- he put her on the spot and she was bare and raw and couldn't get ahold of her emotions. She was sure that he had been on to her- her constant neediness to be around him or dependence on his presence to feel safe and secure- because truth be told, he felt like home.

She almost didn't notice the way his left eye twitched when she had said the word because other than that he seemed indifferent and unaffected, though he had made a point of flirting with the receptionist at their hotel. She didn't know if he was genuinely interested or if he was trying to prove a point- that he could still attract a beautiful and young woman and he was capable of seducing and luring her into his bed.

The ugly green monster had risen that night and she had given him the silent treatment until the next morning. She couldn't help herself; because she was afraid of her own growing feelings- it was just too much all too fast. It didn't help that he was always a perfect gentleman either; she was caught between the need to suppress her feelings to wondering what the hell she had to do to get a rise or reaction out of him. Did she have to walk past him naked while he sat reading his newspaper or sneak into his room late at night and climb on top of him?

She was scared that he had begun to see through her, to notice her longing gazes or the way her eyes fixated on his mouth when he spoke or even the way she liked to sniff him when he pulled her into an embrace. They were little things that began to add up quickly just as her feelings and emotions began to multiply within his vicinity. They had been practically joined at the hip; she had grown to know him- to love him and now watching another woman practically throw herself at him made her insides boil.

It was a commutation of rage and uneasiness, of a fist clenching at her heart and squeezing the life right out of her. Her intestines knotted in the pit of her stomach and tightened until she felt nauseas and sick. She was possessive of him and it was an unhealthy obsession that teetered on the edge of insanity. There was room for only _one_ woman in Raymond Reddington's life and she would be damned if she had to share his attentions.

He was hers and her alone, I mean, didn't he _realize_ that? She said jump and he was suppose to answer with _"how high?'_ he wasn't suppose to be drooling over some fake tits and bleached hair. She growled inwardly when she watched the woman's hand traveling south, massaging up and down his thighs with her fingertips.

She's seen enough- had enough.

Lizzie snickers before reaching for the cloth napkin on her lap and throwing it on the table before sitting up and walking towards the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

**No my characters, but all mistakes are mine.**

 **CHAPTER 2:**

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"Good thing I wasn't dying of dehydration." Lizzie tries desperately for her voice to come out annoyed and dismissive and not jealous but she knows without a shadow of a doubt her eyes tell a very different story- especially when she sees Red quirk an eyebrow and fail to hide a smirk forming at the corner of his lips.

"Ah, Lizzie," He greets with a nod, "Simone, darling, this is my beautiful daughter, Elizabeth." Red gestures towards her, "And this is Simone, Lizzie, she is a stewardess." He does nothing to hide the grin on his face and turns his attentions back to the plastic Barbie practically leering at her while she bats her fake eyelashes at him suggestively.

Lizzie doesn't know who she would rather slap first- the man responsible for her continued rampant jealousy or the woman in his company who continued to run her hand dangerously close to his crotch, in front of his supposed daughter nonetheless.

She hears a high-pitched annoyingly sweet and over-seductive laugh leave the woman's mouth. "Your father is quite the charmer, and looker." She whispers the last bit close to his ear and brings a hand to trail up and down his chest. "At first I was peeved, I thought that the two of you were together but when Raymond over here told me you were his daughter, and it all made sense." The way she said his name, how it rolled off her tongue made Lizzie cringe.

"What all made sense?"

The woman let out another laugh while the smile slowly left Red's face and was replaced with interest. "Well, you've got that wholesome girl next door look going on, and Raymond just seemed like a guy who liked his women a little more _brazen_ and with bigger _assets_ ," She shrugged her shoulders, "Like he would prefer the playmate over the librarian, if you know what I mean…"

Having her biggest insecurity about the man and his preferences thrown in her face by some random woman who had just met her felt like being stabbed in the gut with a butter knife.

Red watched as Lizzie tried to school her emotions and felt a pang of guilt take residence in his heart, he hated seeing her upset and she looked like she was suppressing tears.

He watched as she recomposed herself inch by inch, "Well, I haven't had anyone complain about my assets before, just because I choose to not showcase them to the entire world doesn't mean that they're not there, but if I do find a man who isn't happy with them, I'll be sure to ask you for the number to your plastic surgeon." A fake smile framed her face and before Simone or Red could get a word in, Lizzie continued.

"Oh, look at that," She snapped bringing her wrist up to eyelevel and examining the time on her watch, "Its way past my bedtime, it was nice meeting you…"

"Simone." The blonde reiterated.

"Simone." Lizzie repeated, "Oh, and I wont wait up for you, _Daddy_." She made sure to hover in his personal space while lowering her voice and looking him straight in the eyes before turning on her heels and making her way out of the restaurant and to the elevators.

She heard her name being called in succession but she willed herself not to stop even though his voice sounded breathless and deep as the ocean.

He stood speechless, every fiber of his body and mind on alert, she had the ability to paralyze him with her eyes, pinning him into place with her intensity and her voice- the way she lowered it to a breathless whisper and called him _daddy_ in the most erotic and non-paternal way possible, he was twitching in his pants uncontrollably, wanting nothing more than to pounce and drill into her until she had trouble walking.

He sombered quickly when he reminded himself that she was the one who wanted to use being his daughter as an alias, meaning she viewed him as a surrogate father and not as a man who could potentially make her happy: A man who was older, wiser, charming and able to seduce any woman of his choosing, including her. If Lizzie was interested then she wouldn't have been able to pose as his daughter, the thought of it alone would have been disturbing and inconceivable and yet, it was her choosing to do so. He wondered if she noticed the life die inside his eyes when she decided on that route? Could she read him just as good as he'd come to know her quirks and body language? He guessed not, otherwise she would've realized just how deep-rooted and planted his feelings for her were.

He willed himself to stop thinking about her and concentrate on the attractive and willing woman that was begging for his attentions and his cock. He needed to forget about the somber reality of their situation and lose himself in alcohol and the company of a warm body, even if it wasn't the limbs of the person his heart wanted to desperately embrace and love- he would close his eyes and let himself imagine a dream that would never come to fruition.

Taking a swig of a shot and setting it down on the counter, Red licks his lips as his eyes zone in on her exposed cleavage, "That dress," He begins with a nod, "It looks magnificent on you, but as titillating as it is on that body, I think it would serve a better purpose if it was lying on my bedroom floor."

He knows its cheesy and has to mask a cringe at the sound of his own words but he also knows that he doesn't have to try very hard because she's already going to sleep with him.

She giggles like a little schoolgirl trying to seduce her teacher. She uncrosses her legs and jumps off the stool, inadvertently hiking up her already dangerously short dress.

"How bout we go to my room, I like to be vocal and I'm sure your daughter wouldn't appreciate hearing her father and his companion in the throws of passion although she seems like she's wired a little too tight and in need of a good pounding herself." In that moment Red is flooded with images of _his_ Lizzie underneath him, giving her all he's worth as their bed creaks and the sounds of her moans fill his ears. He tries to imagine the look on her face, the way her legs would shake, how she would feel tightened around him. What he would give to be able to watch her climb on top of his lap, taking pleasure from him until she came all over his cock. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would live up to all his expectations and even surpass them but he highly doubted the chances of ever being able to live out these hopeless fantasies.

Simone noticed the wistful and erotic look that seemed to cloud over his eyes and relished in it, mistaking the fantasies of Lizzie playing in his head as arousal aimed towards her. She used her pointer finger to lightly tap his chest before sliding it down and hooking it inside the leather of the expensive belt and nudged Red forward, into her personal space before leading him to her room.

Red tries for nonchalance and composure but the more he lets his mind wander, the more it tries to convince him that this is a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

She wasted no time in throwing herself at him as soon a "Do not disturb" sign was plastered outside her room door, practically shoving him onto the sofa and straddling his lap. Her kisses were sloppy and aggressive and overzealous. She made work of his suit jacket and threw it on the floor much to Red's dismay but before he could vocalize his displeasure, she hiked up her dress over her waist and then shoulders and tossed it next to his clothing. Instead of being smitten with the sight of a naked woman on his lap, he found himself displeased with the fact that it wasn't the woman he longed for that was offering herself to him and that it would never be. He let Simone loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt, all the while trying desperately to rid his brain of thoughts of Lizzie for a short amount of time but there's a strange feeling that takes precedent in his gut and makes him uneasy.

A loud shrill causes him to jump and almost throw Simone off onto the floor, someone had pulled the fire alarm and he could already hear the commotion coming outside the room, the panic in people's voices and the sounds of guests quickly making their way outside the building.

He breathed a sigh of relief for the interruption and simultaneously scolded himself for feeling guilty of the fact that he was just going to have sex, as if he was cheating on Lizzie; a woman who wanted him to be her daddy.

And then panic flooded through his veins. Where was she? Was she safe? Had something happened to her? Was she in trouble? Why hadn't he followed her to their room? She was clearly displeased and annoyed but he wanted to give her space, the last thing he wanted was her to realize just how in love with her he was, he didn't want to feel her rejection, or even worse- her pity.

He feels sick to his stomach and knows even before knowing that something is wrong. He should've never left her alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Do not own but wish I did**

 **All mistakes are mine, sorry for typos and errors :/**

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Red's gaze bounces from one corner to another, desperately trying catch a glimpse of Lizzie's golden locks. He surveys the crowd of hotel patrons frantically making their way through the emergency exits located on each side of the hall and pushes his way through the swarm of people. He breathes through his nostrils while trying to temper his growing anxiety of Lizzie's unknown whereabouts. He silently chastises himself through gritted teeth and regrets his decision to let her walk away, he hates himself for letting his emotions constantly dictate the discourse of their relationship when he should be thanking the moon and stars for their new found friendship and mutual trust. He knows he shouldn't want, let alone ask more from her but he can't help the aching need that has been growing since the first day they met. It drove him absolutely insane that a woman could have total control of him- she dictated his happiness and sorrow and worst of all, she exposed a vulnerability that brought him to his knees.

He was a master of manipulation, diversion and schooling his features but when it came to her, he had no choice but to surrender completely and willingly. His love was blinding and all-consuming, etched within layers and layers of deep-rooted bindings of a shared past and a hopeless unreachable dream of a future that he would never live to experience. He had spent the last two decades feeling alone and coping with an unbearable loss that he often almost let decapitate him. His sorrow and melancholy often suppressed with alcohol, women, or drugs that would prevent him for putting a bullet to his head. He lost count of every instance in which he aimed his own cult 45 to his temple and willed himself to pull the trigger, he wasn't a coward but every time his finger pushed down on the metal, his mind was flooded with images from a time so distant, in another life and she willed him to stop and live for her- to seek a truth and find redemption if not for him, then for the daughter he lost.

And then an angel was sent to him in the form of a young, beautiful and resilient woman who not only could help him find closure by exposing the truth and clearing his name but also prevent him from losing himself in his immeasurable grief. Lizzie was right, he was so damaged that he didn't know how to accept help from anyone let alone trust anyone enough to let them help him. He liked it so much better when she was constantly mad and brooding, that he could deal with that but the more he inserted himself into her life, the more he broke down her walls without even trying. She had risked her life for him numerous times by now had even offered to trade her life for his and it never failed to ground and amaze him.

There's beads of sweat forming at his temples while he tries to take deliberate breathes to slow his racing heart. He thinks he sees her hidden in the crowd, rushes in the direction of the bouncing curls and calls out her name, 'Lizzie!" He shouts before rushing to her, his hand grasping at her shoulder and pulling her around.

"Excuse me." She scolds as he turns her into his direction.

His face falls, "I'm sorry," He mutters with apologetic eyes, "I thought you were someone else."

She gives him a small nod and continues on her way.

He's left standing in the middle of the lobby unmoving as people continue to walk in the direction of the exit, muted sounds of conversations resonate in his ears as people push and nudge against him but he's frozen into place. Its not until he feels a hand at his elbow willing him to move with her that he brakes out of his trance. She doesn't look at him nor he her as she leads him outside, her hand travelling down his forearm until her fingers mold between his and they both clench at each other tightly.

His lungs feel constricted, throat dry. "Lizzie," Her ears have never heard her name laced with this much pain. They walk into the night mindlessly following the crowd.

"I tried to find you, to warn you but you weren't in the restaurant and I didn't know where you had run off to, three men broke into the hotel suite next to ours but I'm sure they were looking for us." Her body stills unbeknownst to him but their hands are still locked together and he's jerked backward.

And then he finally looks at her. His breath hitches when his eyes fixate on her face. She sniffles and does nothing to hide the tears that stain her cheeks.

He gulps and hopes he can be strong for her and wills the pooling between his eyes to halt even though he already feels the sting of moisture between his eyelashes.

"I couldn't find you," She gasps between quivering lips, "I tried to find you, I-, I looked everywhere." He watches the rise and fall of her chest and tries not to think about how strained and helpless her voice sounds to his ears.

"Where were you?'

His eyes snap shut and his shoulders slouch. Shame and guilt flood through his body like blood through his veins.

Red shakes his head dismissively, "It doesn't matter now, Lizzie, what matters is that you found me now and from this point forward you will never, ever leave my side." There's a determination in his tone, a hoarseness in every word he speaks that sends a shiver through the entire length of her spine.

She lets out a sarcastic laugh and draws her hand away from his, "Of course it matters! I have spent the last two hours in complete agony thinking that you had been found and caught, losing my mind wondering what the hell happened to you and frantically searching up and down the damn hotel praying to God that you were safe and unharmed."

Liz uses the back of her hand to dry the side of her face before running a shaky hand through her hair.

"I'm sorry."

And he watches her face as she instantly connects the dots. Liz's eyes dart anywhere but in front of her where Red stands, afraid that he will be able to read her like an open book.

He never lies to her but he's not above ignoring or adverting questions he doesn't want to answer yet even he cannot conceal they way his words come out like a man caught red-handed.

She plasters on the best face smile that she can muster but her face sombers quickly, "Oh, okay. This whole time I was worried for your safety, worried you were in distress…" She bites down on her bottom lip, hoping to quell the new waves of emotion that start to wash over her. "while you…you were having sex with her."

She hates that she cares. Hates him for making her fall head over heels for him. Hates herself from shying away at every critical moment and acting like a coward.

Hates that she asked him to pretend to be her father.

His heart clenches, hands squeezed into fists.

"Lizzie, I-" His words are cut short as she waves her hand dismissively and interrupts his explanation before he can put her mind at ease.

"No, I feel so stupid, I should've known better. I don't know why that didn't cross my mind," She sighs heavily into the night. "It was so naïve of me to think that you would've followed me to our room when you were clearly occupied with more _pressing_ issues, I mean, I know that men tend to think with their penis before their brain but this whole time…It never occurred to me that you were perfectly safe or that you might have opted to spend the night with her, in her room instead of coming back to our suite- I guess I was too dense to realize that you probably wanted privacy and didn't want to be nuanced by my presence."

"You are not a nuance to me, Lizzie." Red takes two steps forward and tilts his head hoping to meet her gaze, when she refuses to look at him, he reaches out a hand to cup her chin but she recoils and takes a step back, cringing.

"It's okay, I'm okay. I'm so sorry for ruining your night, I just panicked and I saw those men right next door and saw them charging down the hall and then after I lost sight of them, I came back downstairs looking for you and I couldn't find you to warn you so I thought it was a good idea to pull on the fire escape."

He lets her words sync in, distinguishes what she's saying without saying, and as realization of her meaning between the carefully chosen words dawns on him, his heart rate quickens, skips two beats at a time.

There's only one way to interpret what she's telling him and it thrills and frightens him simultaneously.

"It was a great idea, Lizzie, thank you sweetheart." Her head snaps up to his face, confirming why his voice sounded so rough and thick to her ears. She finally looks at him, really looks at him and is shocked at what she sees.

His jaw is slacked, his cheek twitching, and his eyes are bloodshot and filled with unshed tears.

"When you pulled that fire escape and when I heard the shrill of that alarm, my first and only thought was of you. I rushed out and pushed myself through the crowd searching for you, and when I couldn't find you? I blamed myself, cursed my whole existence and prayed to a God I'm not even sure I believe in. The last time I felt this level of fear, this amount of loss and have been consumed with this much immeasurable grief was 24 years ago."

Her breath hitches, shock plastered all over her face at the implication of his words. She feels a fist close around her heart, empathy for all he's had to endure and regret for all the pain her vicious words and actions have caused him in the past. "You make me vulnerable, powerless and weak and what's so incredibly ironic is that you don't even realize the hold you have over me."

"I should've followed you, I wanted to follow you but I'm a bastard and I was so tired of not feeling, not connecting with someone, I just needed to feel human again but the truth is that I didn't sleep with that woman, and I was saved by the bell because the whole time I was trying to figure out an escape strategy and thanks to you, I found it."

He has endured so much loss, suffering and torment the past two decades. He's forgot what it feels like to be human.

He's not a monster, he's her saint.

He's been alone for so long, jaded by this world he lives in, having no one to confide in, and to share his joy and his pain with.

No one to lean on, no hope or faith to rely on. No one to love him.

"Why didn't you want to sleep with her anymore? You seemed to be very taken by her and her assets." She asks nervously through bated breaths trying to conceal her jealousy.

He lets out a small chuckle and looks at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes which causes her to wonder if she's been found out, if he's onto her and the little secret she's been keeping.

"She was a poor man's substitute for what I really wanted- who I really wanted but you know what they say," if you can't be with the one you love…"

Lizzie feels her stomach drop to the floor, "Love the one you're with."

"You love someone?"

With a slight nod of his head, "Yeah." He admits, eyes glued to hers and gaze unwavering.

"Do I know her?" She asks with a whisper.

She watches his jaw clench and unclench. Notices the tick in his eye on full force.

"Better than you think."


End file.
